Beyond
by Cassiopee
Summary: The war was over but there was one last thing Hermione could do for Harry. After that, she promised herself she'd eventually do what she wanted. But what if, by helping Harry, she'd found what she was looking for? Would that game be too dangerous to play?
1. Prologue Beyond the Veil

Hey everyone! Here's a ficlet (4 chapters) – my first in English yay! I hope you'll enjoy. It's a Hermione/Sirius since I've been kind of obsessing over this ship lately...

This fic is a post-DH (well, i still do not take in consideration the last chap for… well, obvious reasons.)

**Disclamer** : I own nothing – characters and universe are the property of J.K. Rowling

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**UPDATE** : Here's the edited version of the first chapter. Thanks a billion times to my** beta: cookie pirate face** !!!

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**Beyond**

°-Prologue – Beyond the Veil-°

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_"Hell is more bearable than nothingness."_

- Philip James Bailey

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Black. Everything was black. The deepest darkness that could be fathomed. He could not see, could not even guess at what lay in the blackness – not a single silhouette, not a shadow, not the slightest nuance. At first, he tried to wave his hand in front of his eyes, thinking he would grow accustomed to the suffocating obscurity. But there was nothing to see.

Empty. Nothing surrounding him. No ground, no walls, no roof. There was no air. There was no time. Not the even the slightest movement.

Cold. It was a continuous sensation. It was not glacial; it was just…cold. But it was a vicious and disturbing cold that reminded him of his numb body, forcing him into consciousness, refusing him the relief of denial, of ignorance.

Fear. He had to admit it; he was afraid. Far more than he thought he'd ever be able to bear. That fear had immediately ensnared him, and he knew it wouldn't go away. It suffocated him, surrounded him, would soon drive him mad. He could not stand it indefinitely.

Voices. Even though there was no one, he could hear voices. Constant whispers. Never a single word uttered louder than any others. He could not understand, identify, localize those voices but he knew they were talking to preserve their memory… their language, their story, their death.

Eternity. If time did not exist in here, neither did death. But was he really dead? How long would he be wandering in this non-world? Would no one free him? Days, months, years? Would this torture ever know an end?

Here will be his new prison. He smiled bitterly, unable to prevent it.

He looked around, naively hoping that this once, he would be able to distinguish something – anything. It was no surprise that he did not. He was alone, facing darkness, despite those fixating voices with their regular whispers. Infinite and incomprehensible complains.

He did not wish to forget either: the one he'd been, those he loved, the things he'd done. He couldn't give up, couldn't give in into the sweet and easy madness seducing him. He reminded himself of his own story – without uttering it, though; he was worth more than the voices.

He closed his eyes. From darkness, he fell into darkness. He'd wait: for the other to come and find him, or for his mind to break. He would keep fighting nevertheless. He wouldn't give up: this hell would eventually know an end.

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The large circular room had not changed in the past ten years. Some ruins, forming an arc, stood in the centre of the place, a ragged veil desolately hanging from it. Although there was no wind, it swayed slightly, as if the nonexistent breeze affected nothing but the mystical cloth. She'd heard people speak of voices coming from it and, this time, she could actually hear the vague and forlorn murmurs.

Suddenly, a strong wind blew through the veil and a man fell from behind it - it almost looked like he'd just been waiting on the other side before passing through again. She ran to him - he was lying on the floor, unconscious - and seized his wrist, checking his pulse. Once she was certain he was alive and not in any danger, she allowed herself a nervous chuckle.

"I'm bloody brilliant," she sighed in relief.

_To be continued..._

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The prologue really _is_ short but upcoming regular parts are going to be a bit longer.

**Reviews are very, very much appreciated!!!**


	2. Part I Beyond Illusions

Hey again ! so here's where things really begin :)

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing – characters and universe are the property of J.K. Rowling

Thanks to **cookiepirateface** and **LoveIt123** for their reviews!!

And thanks to those who added this story to the their "story alert list" and "favourite story list", it really keeps me going!

And most importantly…. Enjoy the first chap!

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**UPDATE**: This is the edited version of Part I, huge thanks to my beta **cookie pirate face **!!!! xxx

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**Beyond**

°-Part I – Beyond Illusions-°

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"_Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."_

- Albert Einstein

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His body was suddenly overwhelmed by thousands of sensations; he felt something cold and hard underneath him, a glacial slab, his whole weight pressing against it, hurting him, but he could do nothing about it. His lungs were on fire, the sting of cold air entering his nostrils, making its path inside, stinging every one of his organs, and then going out again, forcing his chest to move, and making his sides ache. A fierce light surrounded him and he felt as if his eyes would burn from the sudden change; he squeezed them shut as fast as he could, but the light somehow made its way through his closed lids. He clenched his jaws, thus releasing a new wave of uncontrollable pain.

The hard surface onto which his body was pressed disappeared, and he felt as if he was forced through a much too small hole, before his body met another surface – much softer and warmer – but it was one which still made him painfully conscious of every inch of his painful body. The light was less aggressive too, but it was still far too much for him to open his eyes. He then felt a new pressure on his shoulder, and though it was warm and gentle, he could not help but shiver away from it. His breathing became gradually more even, and as he grew used to those new – and painful – sensations, he tried to focus on their meaning. What the hell was happening to him? Why the agony, why the changes? Was it death, was he slowly giving in? The throbbing pain consuming him surely supported this theory, but he somehow knew the answer wasn't that easy. A sudden panic gripped him, as he realised he could not remember where he was – for those new sensations surely meant he'd moved – and how he got there. Was he forgetting? Was his mind losing after putting up such a long fight? His thoughts were running rampant, flashes of memories coming back to him, making no sense at all – some were true, some weren't and he couldn't tell the former from the latter ones. Forcing the memories out of his mind, he strained and focused on those few sentences that kept him away from insanity. He could not let them go; he could not let himself believe in the lie and the illusion that his body was feeling.

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Hermione made no noise when entering the room Sirius was in – she had become used to being discreet during the war and the ability had not yet left her. She sat in the chair by the bed, and looked at the sleeping men. She could tell he actually was sleeping because of his deep, slow breathing… and he hadn't opened his eyes yet. There was no doubt he was conscious, as he would react to the changes in the room: he'd speak to himself and even drink the potions she'd fetch him. All the same, she could feed him only when he was half-conscious and she figured it must be related to primary instincts, forcing him to drink in order to survive.

If he was now physically perfectly healthy, she knew the only remaining issues concerned the mental trauma he must have endured. She was sensible enough to know that healing would take time, that he was fighting against himself every single minute…accepting it was over, accepting that so many things might have changed, and accepting facing the harsh reality of a world which had only spared him on rare occasions. She was in no hurry though, and would patiently wait for him to recover – sitting in the dark room, occasionally whispering words of truth and hope at his ear, holding his hand to sooth him when he looked too tensed.

She decided to retrieve him a few months ago. The war was over and it'd actually been so for almost a year when she began planning Sirius' rescue. She surely could have timed it better, but…could one really say there was right time to bring someone from the dead? She couldn't have done it earlier: they were still chasing loose death eaters and making sure the wizarding word was a safe place to be. Back then, she didn't even fathom that idea…"safety". But things grew calmer and, eventually, the idea of it being the end of war and violence gently sunk in into everyone's head. Getting over the war had been tough on them all, though. It was hard to admit it, but they had no idea how to live with their lives now that they did not have Hocruxes to locate and destroy, psychopaths to kill, or serial-killers to arrest. While war really had been hard on them, they never imagined they would find it so difficult to live in a time of peace. One by one, though, they managed it.

They had had a year for mourning: they slowly accepted every departure they suffered during the past years, going through every single stage – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance – of course dealing with each part in their own way, at their own speed, but eventually they managed to move on. Well, partially. She couldn't – wouldn't – deny that a part of them would keep a stain. They wouldn't make noise if in a deserted street, they'd always be ready for a fight, they'd raise their wand at the first sign of someone in danger, and they'd hold their breath whenever the death toll was mentioned. Now that she was thinking of it, even the end of the war had been subject to a certain kind of mourning. Once the blind and glorious bliss had passed, none of them really believed this hell was over; they were waiting for Voldemort to come out of some hidden Hocrux they didn't know about, waiting for Death Eaters to trap them and kill them all. They raged at their inability to cope with the life they'd been fighting for all these years. They tried to replay the whole story in their heads, seeing every life they could have saved, discerning how they could have made the terror last a shorter time than it did. They all stopped all their activities, lingered about, restlessly asking themselves the same questions and, eventually, rose again and went back to living their lives. Not the old ones they had fit in comfortably, but new ones; ones which had been constructed with friends and loved ones, one which had risen from the ruins of the old, like a phoenix from the ashes.

They needed everything to begin new: moving into new houses, travelling for a while before coming back together, and meeting with those they held dear. Both Ron and Harry kept working as Aurors for the ministry and, at first, Hermione tried to talk them out of it. She didn't think they could completely move on by remaining so involved with the darkness, but they seemed to be doing just fine, and the end of war had eventually brought them what they wanted the most.

Harry was the happy husband of the adorable Ginny, he clung to her as though his life depended on it, and somehow it did. She was the family he never had and a safe harbour he'd always long to go back to. He was loved and cherished, and even though he sometimes still put his life on the line when in mission, he wasn't putting the life of the one he loved in danger anymore.

Ron was now known for himself, not only as Harry's best friend; he was a war hero and a decent Quidditch player. He was getting the victory and recognition he'd wanted during all this years in Hogwarts. He didn't need to look up to his successful brothers, neither Harry, nor even herself anymore; he was his own man and seemed to be enjoying every bit of it. Surprisingly enough, he was doing quite well with women as well, and had more than one witch desperately waiting for him to notice her.

Even though she'd dated Ron during and war and the few months that followed, she eventually broke up with him. Everyone first thought it was her rational reaction to this new beginning and that she'd come back to her senses, but it wasn't. Of course, Ron was hurt and she almost went back with him just so he'd be alright, but she didn't. They were meant to be friends and going any further would be nothing but convenience and fulfilling the expectations laid down by meddling acquaintances. Ron had been over her faster than any would've thought and they went back to being the dear friends they've been during their years at Hogwarts. She also gave up on her job – she trained to be a nurse during the war so she could quickly help victims of the battles - but the thrill and the interest she first felt had since faded. She was helping people, but it was one patient after the other; she couldn't get to know them, couldn't get see how much better they were once they'd left. Her work as a medicomagus became more and more insignificant and unfulfilling, so she finally quit.

She'd be lying if she told herself that she was the only one war didn't bring what she was looking for, but the problem was that she had absolutely no idea of what would suit her. She'd spent her childhood being Ron and Harry's older sister, protecting and caring for them, and when the choice of what she wanted to do presented itself, she intuitively directed herself to another way of helping people – thus avoiding the awareness of her own distress. Even though she was positively conscious of that fact, she looked for another distraction; somehow hoping things would slightly go better by themselves, unwilling to put so many efforts on her life. She spent hours reading books, trying to find a meaning, ignoring Ginny's concerned look and Molly's she's-not-over-it-yet's. That was when she found those ancient writings about a disaparition veil, death veil or void veil, according to different sources. She researched all the books she could lay her hands on and eventually founded a plan solid enough to get Harry's Godfather out of that non-world. She always was sad when she looked at Harry who so desperately needed Ginny, knowing what he'd lost in the war, and she felt like there must be something she should – could – do. And there the answer was, obvious and yet extreme: saving Sirius.

She looked at the man again, his body was tense – she knew he was awake, restlessly fighting against his demons and illusions. She also knew her purpose weren't pure – yes, she wanted to help Harry and give Sirius an opportunity to live the life he'd deserved – but she also felt useful again; she felt needed while taking care of the older wizard. And somehow, even though she knew this thought to be naïve, she was hoping that after that, things would get better – that it was the last thing she was meant to do, the last thing people were counting on her for. She sighed, trying to get rid of those new illusions and not cling to them urgently.

She drew herself closer to Sirius; he was mumbling again but she knew exactly what he was saying – what he'd been saying for those last days. "I am Sirius Black, my godson is Harry Potter. I must get out to help him," over and over again. It was a mantra or, rather, a prayer he'd utter repeatedly, desperately. She took his hands and whispered as gently as she could.

"The war is over. Harry's defeated Voldemort. He's safe, now. But he needs you still. Come back to us," she'd repeat every time he'd speak those heart-breaking words.

She somehow felt close to him, felt she could understand – he was fighting his way back for nothing but for Harry and, at that moment, she had the impression she was keeping her head afloat for the very same reason. She felt stupid and egoistic to think so – she should be able to get better, as everyone did, she wasn't a teenager anymore… she didn't like being lost but she, too, couldn't find her way back to her old self. That proud, obnoxious and Gryffindor girl she used to be. Where was the bravery when she was cowering away from choices and changes? Where was courage when she was pretending to be alright, hiding behind the help she granted the others?

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"The war is over. Harry's defeated Voldemort. He's safe, now. But he needs you still. Come back to us," he heard.

Always the same words. Those voices. Never before did he make a meaning out of that confusion, but now they seemed to have all merged in one and only one voice, trying to deceive him. If he believed them, he could let go. If Harry really was safe, he could stop fighting for his sanity and slip into a comfortable numbness. Was his own mind playing tricks on him? Surely that voice wasn't one of the many he once heard. And he was so tired of fighting, he wanted so badly a few moments of rest – just a few minute of blissful solace. But what if this voice was correct? Wasn't it far too gentle to mean him any harm? Couldn't it be a friend calling out for him and actually helping him? Or would life drag him down again, as it did every time things seemed to brighten up? Then again, the voice said Harry needed him – it surely wouldn't if it wanted him to give up. If Harry needed him, he had to fight harder. But how could he? His breathing was getting quicker, his eyes firmly closed, and he was surprised to realise that he was again repeating his sentence faster, maybe even louder, holding on to it with all his might.

The voice was willing him to come back, it surely wouldn't do that if it didn't want him to live. But come back to what? If that voice didn't want him to live, it meant it wasn't a voice, but his voice, he thought sarcastically. If those thoughts actually were dragging him down, could he really be reprehended for surrounding to them? Did he not fight long enough? Wasn't it normal that a part of him wished nothing but for it stop and, in some desperate hope, would try to trick him off? And what if the voice was someone else's? What if there was something to go back to? What if there was a way out of this maze? Wasn't the risk worth it? Would he be such a terrible person if just took the risk? If that voice wasn't his salvation, would there be any?

Again, he sarcastically thought that whatever that voice was, it was salvation. Might it be sweet insanity and forgetfulness? Or actually a sign of his return, of going back? He wasn't sure he knew where that "back" was or how it felt like. He knew there were people he cared about, he knew there were other fights than the one he'd become embroiled in. Most of all, he knew that there was Harry. And that he needed him.

Even though fear was consuming him, he opened his eyes. Slowly. The light didn't hurt as badly as it had the first time he'd felt fully conscious of his body, but it was still difficult to actually see. There were shapes of different natures, some places were darker than, others but everything was still obscured. A sudden hope filled him when he realised that for the first time in a very long while, he actually could discern different kind of patterns. He then felt a gentle squeeze and looked at his hand. Another hand was holding it. It was smaller and softer than his own. He let his gaze follow the hand, only to see an arm, shoulder, neck and eventually a face. He felt a kind of shock as he saw another person, not as a blurry memory, but as an actual tangible existence, standing beside him. The features were feminine and delicate. He tried to pull other memories to his consciousness – other than the ones he had played over and again – but couldn't quite place the woman. He couldn't guess her age her either, and he mused that she might be nothing but a delightful delusion. Only…there was something in her eyes that felt familiar; the way she looked concerned but so reassuring at the same time.

"I was waiting for you," she whispered; as though he was still sleeping and she was afraid to wake him up, as though she was afraid her voice would startle him.

Her voice – he knew her voice. It was the same one that called him out of his nightmares. There were so many things around him that he couldn't quite focus and he would shift his gaze every few seconds, trying to take it all in, trying to make sense of it all.

"Sirius," she called again, a bit louder but still…so softly. He recognized his name.

"I am Sirius Black, my godson is Harry Potter. I must get out to help him", he said, his mantra pouring out of his mouth, before he could contain it, his gaze lost somewhere between where she was standing and her collarbone.

"The war is over. Harry's defeated Voldemort. He's safe, now. But he needs you still. Come back to us", she said once again, in that same soft tone, as though she was talking to a child.

For the first time, it felt true. For the first, he truly and utterly believed it.

"A—am I?" he ventured, "Am I back?"

His eyes eventually found hers and this time he kept focused.

She smiled and nodded a "yes", and held his hand tighter.

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Woohoooo wrote that in one night^^

Sorry for those who love Ron but I have strong issues with this character... and JK herself depicted him as attention-seeking and looking for victory, didn't she? sure, he was 11 in that book but I don't think one deepest wish would really change... Harry's didn't :) And I guessed Hermione's... is about being protected (since it's always been the other way around) and well will see where that leads her...

oh and next chap will surely be a bit longer, and you'll have to wait longer as well (sorry) and there'll be more actions and actual dialogue yay^^

And... last but absolutely NOT least........** please, do review **:) I appreciate them very very much and there's no way i'm going to improve my writing skills if no one tells me what I should/could do, is there??


	3. Part II Beyond the Past

Hello dear readers !! wow, part II at last :) To be fair, this piece got me into some trouble... I first was far too faithful to be books... but then I do't think 'Mione would have brought Sirius Black wth a "By the way you're last Best Friend's dead but don't worry he died a happy man - married to your cousin and all. Anyway you're for Harry so who cares?" So this is slight AU as I took some liberties (being to author is just great^^)

**Disclamer**: nothing's mine - i'm not half clever enough!

Thanks to **MR, Padfootsgrl79, cookiepirateface, sinwen, lilo** and **sweetmiracle** for their reviews :) love you all!!! and thanks for the alters/fav adds!!

And a huuuuuge thanks to **cookie pirate face,** my beta, thanks to her patience and work you have a gramatically correct new part XD!!!

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**Beyond**

°-Part II – Beyond the Past-°

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_"I tend to live in the past because most of my life is there."_

- Herb Caen

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Hermione and Sirius were both in the small, somewhat cramped living room of the witch's house. A mixture of muggle and wizard photographs was hanging to the right of an impressive fireplace, while comfortable beige sofas and a low table were arranged in the middle of the room. A spacious library occupied much of the remaining place. The decoration was simple – no display of kitsch trinkets, no paintings (though there were the photos) – but the furniture matched well and there was a warm sense of tranquillity in the room, which he found to perfectly match its owner.

After he had awoken, Hermione had been careful not to press him to see what he remembered, preferring that he be able to regain his memories in his own time (and without the added pressure of having to present to her a strong front). She'd only reminded him that she was only a room away, should he want any of his questions answered. After this, she'd taken care to show him around the house, and give him fresh clothes.

He stayed a few hours in the room, concentrating on the various memories and images flitting through his mind; he found that he remembered every significant event of his life rather easily – the different fragments still existing, simply waiting to be conjured.

What led to the most bemusement was his time in the Veil, and how it might have affected him. He had no idea how long he'd been waiting behind it. Nor did he know where exactly he was now, and he certainly didn't know who had opened her home to him so willingly. Though, he had to admit that he trusted her implicitly.

It surprised him at first, to so easily present his trust to an utter stranger, but there was something in the girl that looked familiar, something that told him he would not be betrayed. He assumed she was a friend of Harry's. Harry would likely have delegated to her the duty of looking after his godfather until he could do so on his own, and this alone told Sirius that she was trustworthy. His godson always kept good company.

Shaking his head of his musings, he eventually got up to have a shower; his movements were quite clumsy and slightly painful, which he assumed had something to do with lying nearly in the same place for days on end.

Feeling slightly more refreshed, he conjured all his Gryffindor courage, and went to the sitting room where the young witch was absorbed in a book.

Both were sitting still in silence, dreading the upcoming moment: each afraid of what the other would say and each afraid of the other's reactions.

Hermione was biting her lips, focused intently on her cup of tea, while Sirius simply watched her. Inhaling deeply, he began, knowing that he could not avoid knowing the whole story – and he wanted to get it over with sooner, rather than later.

"Where am I?" he began smoothly, wishing to first know the trivial details of the present before going back into a darker past.

"My house," she answered, smiling. " It's not far from London..."

As she answered, he was studying the room they were in, noticing the covers piled up in one of the armchairs. This led him to realize that he must have been occupying her only bedroom. He felt a flicker of guilt at the unquestioning generosity she'd given him.

She laughed lightly at the look of mild discomfort he'd assumed while looking at the blankets. "Sorry. I imagine this isn't the most grand of places, especially not compared to what you must be used to..."

He smiled apologetically, was rather surprised. How could she possibly know what kind of a house he used to have? How could she know of the pure-blood grandeur he'd grown up with?

"You don't remember me, do you?"

There was no disappointment in her tone, though she sounded amused. For Hermione's part, she realized that she'd changed quite a lot since her Hogwarts days; the bossiness had left her, and in its place rested a comfortable sense of confidence and self-assuredness. Her appearance, too, had matured.

He looked at her again, studying her more closely. Her hair was a rich, chocolate brown, but for a few white strands; the smooth curls cascaded down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a mahogany brown, and her nose was somewhat perky and slightly freckled. He tried, but he could not age her. Her skin was soft, giving her a youthful glow, but her eyes conveyed too much sadness, too much knowledge, for someone that young, as did the white hair. Very few people could have seen undergone enough at a young age to physically affect their appearance. They'd have had to go through some hellish experiences...

He was almost completely sure, though, that she was somewhere between twenty and thirty five, but then… she looked astoundingly familiar. He smiled, thinking that she somehow resembled a kitten...and then realization struck.

"It can't be…" he muttered to himself. "How-how old are you?"

"Twenty four," came her short, simple answer, along with that knowing smile she seemed to wear rather often.

He looked at her in awe, refusing to admit he might be right regarding her identity.

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?" he asked in disbelief "Ten years… It can't have been…"

"Eight, to be more precise. I was sixteen when you knew me… and I just turned twenty four."

His eyes widened slightly at the change, but he did not dwell on this, for his mind was being assailed by hundreds (thousands) of questions. He didn't know where to start. The war, he'd gathered from her reassuring whispers, was over. But what of the deaths? Harry? Tonks? Lupin? And what had they been doing since?

"Harry is fine," she said, answering the question he had not yet voiced. "But...I suppose you'll want a more detailed account?" He could only nod.

She told him that Harry was now married to Ginny Weasley, head of the biggest Auror department, and they were living not far from The Burrow. A rush of pride swept through him, knowing that his godson, James' son, had made a life for himself. And then came the pang of sadness, when he realized that he had missed it.

When he got around to asking about the war, the first thing she responded with was difficult to swallow. Dumbledore had died? He didn't want to believe it, didn't want his onetime mentor to be gone, but the sadness in her eyes revealed the truth in her words. Moving painfully from that subject, sensing his need for a bit of a distraction, she summarized the chase for the Hocruxes, the running, the hiding, the battles, the victory, and the long fight to find and imprison remaining death eaters. She did not go into details, something he understood, respected, and was secretly grateful for.

She then told him about the other member of the Order that she'd stayed in touch with – about what they'd become. About Ron working with Harry as an Auror, Neville and Luna's marriage, McGonagall becoming the Headmistress, Kingsley's rise to Prime Minister… She kept her voice as steady as possible when she informed Sirius that his best friend and cousin were married and had a son, knowing how much he'd be hurt that he could not witness their happiness. A lot of people weren't mentioned and he was afraid, and rather aware, that it wasn't because Hermione had become a forgetful person. Guessing again the wizard's silent request, Hermione forced herself to keep a cool expression before mentioning the death toll. Beginning with those Sirius wasn't intimate with, she eased him into the idea of having lost people he once held dear. Still, there was no escaping talking about the infamous Battle of Hogwarts.

A long pause fell between them. Sirius couldn't utter a single word and silent tears were freely falling down his cheeks. There was nothing she could do, and even though she had tried to prepare herself, knowing the moment would be inevitable, it required all her self-control and strength not to break down. She reached for Sirius and took him in her arms, needing his presence as much as he needed hers. They stayed that way for a while, remembering the darker moments they had been through, silently giving their respects to those they lost, and accepting that they had, at least partly, been defeated by the war. Hermione eventually untangled herself from his arms, allowing Sirius to have private time for his grief.

***

A few days passed, during which they talked about nothing but souvenirs of a better time, a Marauder's time, and remembered the very few pleasant memories from Grimmauld Place – from the late talks they'd have in the library when the house was asleep, to the Order's reunions, which everyone attended. The unbearable pain wrought from the burden of grief gradually faded into a duller ache, still making him aware of its presence, but he was now able to focus on other, happier thoughts. Hermione knew the older wizard was doing his best to overcome his pain in order to see Harry as soon as possible, and she greatly admired him for this. And also felt ashamed at herself for whining, when he had lost so, so much more than her.

She would stay with him at the flat, and they'd keep each other company, albeit they were often lost in the wanderings of their own minds. He didn't talk much, still in grief– not only because of the people he'd lost, but also because of all the life he'd missed, all the moments lost to him, the weddings of his best friend and of his godson at the forefront of his many regrets. Somehow, in these eight years, Harry had grown into a good man and a loving husband. Remus had found the love, respect and self-confidence he'd always denied himself. And Sirius had missed it.

Thoughts like this would occasionally make him succumb to a patch of depression, but Hermione was always nearby, a calming, soothing presence. Most of the time, they could be found in the living room, which was temporarily doubling as Hermione's bedroom, because of her adamant refusal to let her guest sleep on the couch. When not lost in their musings, they'd read one of the many books in Hermione's library, or would revert back to their days at Grimmauld place; times of late night chats and light hearted banter. He would make her laugh with tales of his Marauder days, his utter lack of modesty secretly amusing her. Her intelligence and maturity did impress him, but he took the most pleasure in the streak of mischief that led her to dream up grand ideas, only to dismiss them at the realization that they were either illegal or highly illogical. The warmth, hospitality and company had him slowly turning back into the Sirius they knew eight years ago –though, admittedly in better health and perhaps with a happier disposition. She was just waiting for him to say he was ready to get out of the house. They had already discussed it and the idea exited them: they couldn't help but imagining various ridiculous methods of announcing his return. Still, he had not told her that he was ready, and she was loath to rush him.

She noticed he'd sometimes assume a forlorn look. He never mentioned the Veil, and did not answer her initial questions about it. He was grateful that she wouldn't press the subject, and knew that on the day he'd feel the need to talk about it, she'd be there to listen. He still couldn't discuss that – not that he didn't trust her – but he worried that voicing his fear would make it more real, tangible, unbeatable. He suffered bouts of insomnia, and consequentially, they'd stay up until ungodly hours, just talking, until he retired to his room. Only to find that he could do nothing but stare at the ceiling; sleep refused to claim him. An unfathomable anguish would grip him; he was terrified that he would be unable to wake up, and would be forced into the darkness once more.

***

They were once again lounging on the sofas, steaming cups of tea in front of them, when the doorbell rang. Hermione hadn't had any visits, and had rarely left her home since Sirius' return. This had only served the illusion that her little flat was the world. She suddenly looked terrified, realizing she hadn't gotten around to telling anyone of his return. She gestured wildly for him to hide and he ran into the bedroom as she banished the extra cup of tea to the kitchen.

"Hermione Jean Granger, if you don't open up this instant, I'm blowing in the door!" an angry voice called out.

The witch obliged, and opened the door to reveal a fuming Ginny.

"I'd have opened even if you hadn't shouted. I was in my room," Hermione said, with a slight smile. Somehow, the redhead failed to find humour in the situation.

" 'Mione, you must be kidding me! Almost a month without any news! You could have died and we wouldn't know! I know you needed time for yourself but—look; I supported you when you quit your job at St. Mungo's but…only because I thought you'd do something to make yourself happy! Not – not—brood over here in your little flat!" she finished, without giving Hermione the time to defend herself.

"Er, Gin, I'm perfectly fine, and… I kind of had a project that kept me busy. I didn't want to leave until I'd finished...probably should have owled, though," she trailed off.

"Come on, you can't fool me! Have you taken a look into the mirror recently? You have huge lines under your eyes...you look exhausted!"

"Uh… haven't been sleeping a lot, I guess." She laughed when Ginny rolled her eyes, before adding quietly, "Well, honestly...I was working on something you all might rejoice upon."

"Yeah… what about thinking of yourself, for once? Wasn't that the plan after quitting the hospital?" Hermione nervously bit her lips, looking around her house, anywhere but at the fiery Weasley. "Anyway… that project being...?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"A surprise. I promise, I swear that you'll know soon!" she added, beaming and smiling like a maniac. Ginny's eyes widened.

"Oh, I see! Well, I hope _he_'s worth letting down your family, your friends…"

"Of course he is!" then she paused when realising the implication, her cheeks flaming before she quickly added, "not in _that_ way! Look, next time we have a 'family dinner', add a place setting, and you'll find out soon enough. But now I still have work to do. I'll keep you posted," she finished in somewhat of a rush.

"Are you trying to kick me out?" Ginny asked in disbelief, before giving in with a sigh. "Fine. Tomorrow, seven o'clock, my place. And that's not a question!" Then, before Hermione could say anything: "Oh, and please, have some sleep and for Merlin's sake! Take care of yourself...you've got no idea how worried I've been...how worried Harry's been."

"Tell him I am perfectly fine, but that I just got too involved in—what I was working on"

"Yeah… whatever you say. See you tomorrow, then!"

The witch disappeared with a pop and Hermione let herself fall into the sofa. Sirius came back into the room, smiling at the scene he'd just witnessed.

"That was your sweet godson's wife…" she told him, with an unconvinced smile.

"I have no doubt. I guess it's a Potter thing… being attracted to redhead furies," he answered with a wink.

"No doubt," she paused, "if you want to postpone though, if you're not ready to face them...I should be able to face her wrath."

"While I appreciate the gesture...I suppose it's time to go public anyway," he braved.

There was a long silence, while the implication of the next day's meeting was slowly sinking in.

"What about you go down the chimney dressed up as Santa?" Hermione asked suddenly, in an effort to break the uneasiness that had settled.

"Oh, well… It's a pity it's only November, but that's still a good idea. Not the best you've had so far, though." He made himself comfortable in the sofa and looked at her intensely, his gaze filled with concern.

"Another cup of tea?" she asked, standing up, and guessing from Sirius' look that he was about to broach a subject she wouldn't be comfortable with.

"Good try," he said with a smirk, but he only patted the place next to him. She came back, sinking into the sofa with a resigned sigh.

"You've told me about Harry and Ron's lives in detail, but haven't mentioned a single thing about you. I didn't even know you worked at St. Mungo's…"

"Well, I did tell you I studied magical care to help during the battles," she pointed out.

"Yes. But not that you actually kept working there and then quit. Is it true, what Ginny said?"

"Well, she certainly has the Gryffindor habit of exaggerating things… I just wanted a change; it's no big deal. Sure you don't want another tea? Toast, maybe?"

"Uh-uh, you're not escaping that easily, Kitten."

She smiled when he used that ridiculous nickname he'd recently bestowed upon her, and decide to make herself more comfortable, knowing this would be a long talk.

"So? What are your plans going to be?" came Sirius' opening question.

"Well… I—I guess I will have to find a job, there's no way I'm going to live on the ministry's reward for more than another few months… and I guess… ugh! _Why_ is it so ridiculously difficult to choose? Most seventeen year olds know what they're going to be!"

"Well, maybe they weren't busy saving their best friends' lives, and actually got to ask themselves the question," he mused. He suddenly opened his eyes widely when he realised what the witch had said before that. "So, I've been depriving you from sleep in a proper bed for weeks, and happily making holes in your money? You should have asked—come on, you know better!" he was clearly vexed, evidenced by the mingled shock and hurt on his face.

"I'm sorry to tell you this but… you're broke, Sirius. I mean… we all thought you were dead so… your will…" she trailed off, before adding hurriedly, "not that I think Harry won't restore what was yours under his own initiative! But...I couldn't really ask you for help, could I?" she smiled as she knew she made a point.

"Yeah… not that I ever seemed to be of any help to you, did I?" he spat bitterly.

"Stop being ridiculous! And what are _you_ going to do once everybody knows the great Sirius Black is back? Going to be up to no good? Break every heart passing your way?" she asked, in an attempt to change the subject, and laughing at the falsely shocked face he put on. But her laughing quickly subsided. She didn't know why, but she felt some twinge of displeasure at the idea of Sirius going about chatting up pretty witches. She knew he was aware of the fact that he was still attractive – especially now that he actually had time to take care of himself – and she'd heard his tales about his marauder's years; he'd been a heartbreaker. Although she didn't want him to feel that he owed her, there was a tiny aching thing she couldn't, or refused to, put a name on. Mentally shaking her head of these ideas, she looked back at him, waiting for his answer.

"Hmm… well, I wouldn't like to put too much thought on the future right now, but–I guess...I'll just do what I planned when I was a reckless seventeen year old bastard: I'll be an Auror.

"Then I'll be sure to spend time annoying Harry and Remus with "immature" pranks. I've gotta keep the Marauder spirit alive, you know. For the rest, come what may! If there's anyone who knows how useless planning your life out can be...it's me.

"Life will always reserve its fair share of surprises. I just hope next ones will be better than the ones I've had recently," he said, winking at the last part.

Hermione looked at him in speechless amazement. It all sounded so simple when he said it and it had a ring of truth. She knew that planning her whole life was ridiculous, but she needed something tangible to aspire to, and helping others had seemed to be a good one. Now though, she was willing to feel selfish and actual try being happy.

She wondered, now, how he could be so confident when he'd been through as much as he had. She'd had a comparatively peaceful (well, she hadn't died, anyway) life than he, but she felt so...lost. His barking laugh interrupted her ponderings.

"Stop thinking that much Kitten, it won't help, honestly! Now, there's surely something you like doing? Just selfishly?"

"Well… I—I thought about teaching… McGonagall told to me about the charm teacher post being free next year… so maybe…"

"I'd say you don't look the remotest bit excited at the prospect, so drop it."

"Research, then. Just…you know, the sheer pleasure of the enigma, the frustration of not knowing, the relief when everything starts making sense. Just being a free-lance researcher for the ministry."

"_Now_ we're talking. Why haven't you tried it already?"

"Oh, I… I couldn't. They were things to do and… I mean, it's not...not a job that…"

"It's a job that will have everybody enthralled: the reason being quite simple, it'll make you happy."

She smiled. He had a point and she knew, much as she hated to admit it, that she was being a bit of a coward. Research had always somehow been her last resort and an option she cherished but never fully considered, terrified she'd lose interest. Then, she'd be utterly lost and that...that was a frightening though.

"Stop thinking!" came Sirius' voice, scattering her thoughts. "Now, go to bed – your bed – because if you still look that exhausted at the dinner, that 'sweet' wife of Harry's is going to kill me when she discovers I'm the cause, and if she's like her mother…"

"Ginny's nothing like Molly, you're safe...so's your godson, for that matter," she answered laughing. "But I can't go to sleep now – I still haven't finished the report."

"What report?"

"You don't think the ministry will be happy with you just being 'back' – so if we want them to leave us in peace, I'd better provide them with all the answers they might want. And since I have a medicomagus degree, I added a very precise medical report. I don't want them keeping you under observation." She taunted him with a smile that dared him to argue the reasoning of her effort.

"You are far too clever for your own good. But you'll have plenty of time for that tomorrow and I'll be more than happy to help with it. Now, humour me: get some sleep and...sweet dreams."

She went to her room after bidding Sirius a good night, her body being too tired to argue and actually grateful at Sirius' offer–her back had been killing her these last weeks.

He looked at her as she slowly made her way to her room and smiled sadly: he understood the witch's fear and, though she might not believe him if he'd revealed it, he often felt the same. He had been dreaming about a better life when he'd been locked up at Grimmauld Place, but a cynical voice constantly told him not to bother with those dreams, for they could be nothing than just that – dreams. Beautiful paintings that are pleasant to look at, but that are not to be touched, not to be handled.

And, fine, looking was nice. But touching was better. This was a personal philosophy that spurred him into wanting to help her out. After all, wasn't this the third time she'd put her own life on the line to come to his rescue? He wasn't a fool and knew, even if Hermione did not mention it, that she'd risked a lot when trying to retrieve him from the Veil. One does not play with such powerful force without hazarding a great deal of harm.

Hoping to calm his mind slightly, he went to the kitchen and helped himself a glass of whiskey. Three times she had saved him; the first two were clearly for Harry's sole benefit, but...he could not fathom her reasoning for the most recent. Of course, there was the 'enigma' she'd been going on about, but couldn't she have found an enigma that was a tad less dangerous to resolve?

He finished his glass. He didn't know her reason and found that he didn't need to. Things were rather clear: she needed help and comfort, and he would offer these to her. And anything else he could give. He owed her more than he could ever repay, so he vowed to at least give it a try. He knew there were memories that still haunted her, memories she wouldn't share, but he wouldn't ask questions on subjects she'd worked so hard on avoiding and forgetting.

Whatever her nightmares were about, he hoped his sheer presence could help ease her into gentle and peaceful dreams.

He sighed.

The next day was going to be difficult, but he was looking forward to it. He had begun to process the past, and was on the road to recovery.

The future looked brilliant from where he stood.

* * *

Yeah that' all for this chap, now next time.... lots of people and more action :) let me know if you have some ideas/desires/request... :)

_Now reviews are the love you sent the author to thank them for their work... spread the love people, **give me love**!!!!!_


	4. Part III Beyond Dreams

hey people, very sorry for the delay. Crazy essays and projects :S

Again, thank a billion times to **sweetmiracle,Essabellia, padfootsgrl79** (your suggestion is just what i had in mind :)), **black mirror, MR, cookiepirateface** and **afina kedavra** (sorry, no santa cla clothes haha) for their reviews :)))

and sorry this chap is not betaread yet

**

* * *

**

**Beyond**

°-Part III - Beyond Dreams-°

* * *

"_Dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don't."_

- Brett Butler

* * *

Sirius was staring at the kitchen clock as if he was expecting his will to be able to slow time down. He knew they would be leaving shortly, and the whole day had been nothing but imaging catastrophic scenarios of the reaction people would have about his return. Hermione had been avoiding him the entire day, busy writing and editing the report that was to be send to the ministry the next day, as they wouldn't want official to come during the dinner and ruin everything. Even though the mentioned report was not only finished, but perfected to the coma, she kept on pretending she had to work on it. The witch knew fear was catching and did not want to get Sirius anymore nervous than he already was, not to mention that she was supposed to be the one calm enough for the both of them and that she really doubted she'd be able to behave accordingly. Knowing time was almost up and being sick of rereading the file, she eventually entered the kitchen to face an anxious-consumed Sirius.

"The clock may melt under your gaze, Sirius, but we're still going in ten minutes," she taunted.

He just smiled daringly at her, and she only understood the reason why when she went for the kettle, which exploded in her hand, arousing her with enchanted orange-colouring water. Soaked with a colour that did not suit her in the least, she gave him the exasperated look he had received countless times form professor McGonagall.

"For my defence," began the Marauder, "I'd like to remind you that you left me you _alone_ the whole day and that I had to find something to occupy my mind and prevent me from cowarding away"

"I hardly think the brave Gryffindor you are would. And do I have to understand that I'd better mischief-proof my house before I try and use anything?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. Though she tried, she found herself unable to be angry at the immature farce her host put on; during those few weeks in his company, she had learn to read beneath the assured look and evil glint and knew how much this night meant.

"No punishment?!" he asked in disbelief.

She gave him a wicked smile and he knew that retribution was not abandoned but merely postponed and most surely going to take him by surprise and be rather nasty. He laughed at the thought that there definitely was marauder-material in the large brain of the charming bookworm he learned to appreciate. Trying not to laugh, as it would do nothing but encourage future pranks, she went for the fridge and took a home-made tart out of it. She paused for a moment, wondering whether the marauder did charm the desert in some way but neither asked nor checked it, silently hoping he did some mischief to get to see their friends' reaction. As he watched the girl's very short moment of hesitation, he barked another laugh not entirely surprised that she pretended there were no cause for worrying. His laughing stopped as an owl came as she was magically removing any trace of orange from the kitchen – he easily recognized as Hedwige flew straight to Hermione, holding her leg up so the letter could be delivered. Hermione took and gave the owl a biscuit.

"The Lupins will be there," she commented while reading Ginny's letter and then laughed as she finished, "They're having bets about what the surprise is all about, looks like Teddy misunderstood as he said he was sure that I was coming just because I knew he wanted me there."

"I guess the marauders modest genes are kicking in," joked the older wizard, wondering how his friend's child would react to his presence and dreading the fact that he might just be scared of him. He'd been quite good with children on the few occasions he had to take care of one, and remembered he always managed to make baby Harry laugh, but he was pretty sure Azakaban and the Veil changed anything in that regard too.

* * *

They apparated in front of the Potters' residence; both looked at the entrance door with anguish. She took a deep breath before knocking at the door and entering, they had arranged that Sirius would wait for her to announce his return and go back for him. He leaned against the door, so he could understand what was said, feeling his heart beating quicker as he recognized those voices he didn't know how much he'd missed before that instant.

"Aunt Miny!" She had no time to speak that a 6-year-old blue-haired boy jumped in her arms, "You came! I told them you would!" she laughed as he gave her the cutest front-toothless smile.

"As soon as I heard you were missing me, I rushed in here" she answered as she put the little boy back on the ground, seeing Remus slightly shake his head as she encourage the ever-growing ego of his young son, who smiled at his audience, clearly showing them he had been right all along.

Her former teacher took a step forward to welcome and she did her best to keep in control her urge to shout out that Sirius was waiting outside. He hugged her and discreetly whispered he'd been worried not to see her. She smiles reassuringly, feeling guilty for not having written at all to the werewolf. They had become quite close during the last years and she knew he would get worried, but quickly forgave herself at the idea of happy he'd be in a few minutes.. Taking a look around, she had to bite the inside of her cheeks not to laugh at the look of Ginny who clearly could not stand the suspense. Before the redhead could say anything, Harry went to take her in his arms, saying that he'd missed her. She gave him a slight guilty look but did not repress a smile of victory her best friend clearly noticed as he arched an eyebrow, wondering what the clever witch had been up to.

"So," interrupted Ron, "who won the bet? I said you'd introduce us to you fiancé _and_ your pregnancy," he ended not completely able to take all jealousy off his voice.

"None of that," she nervously shifted her weight from one leg to the other and even though the fact that she was enjoying seeing them all dying to know what the surprise was, she could not have Sirius waiting any longer. She inhaled and continued, "I have asked an old friend to drop by. Someone you haven't seen in a long while but you've all been missing," her eyes trailed off to Harry and Remus as she finished.

She went to the door and gave a reassuring smile at Sirius before reaching for his hand. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing on the small hand that was holding his own and gave her his trademark smile; he was ready to walk on stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let me re-introduce you to the Great and Only… Sirius Black," she said as the handsome wizard crossed the threshold, holding her hand a bit tighter to take in her strength.

A long silence followed the marauder's entrance, everyone staring at him, not daring to believe that he actually was back. She had o bite back a laugh as she remembered the different scenario they had put up, if such a silence was to reign. Hopefully, there was no need for such a diversion as Harry approached his Godfather, staring at him in disbelief; afraid this just was a delightful illusion or very cruel joke. Understanding the errands of his _protégé_'s mind, Sirius gave him an inviting smile, to which Harry immediately responded, jumping in the man's arm and provoking a general laughter that got rid of the growing tension. One by one, they all greeted their friend back, all of them somehow afraid to let themselves fully believe in this miracle. Meanwhile, Hermione stayed behind in order to give them room for the reunion they hadn't been expecting, silent witness of what she thought was one of the happiest moment she ever saw. Remus came last, still quite unable to realize his deepest wish was becoming true. Everyone was looking at him and the expression of marvel his face had been wearing from the moment his friend came into the room suddenly became menacing.

"You! Don't you—don't you _ever_ disappear again!" he threaten before taking his friend in his arm, letting tears of relief freely flow down his cheeks. After a few moments, he manage to let go Sirius and looked immensely relieved as the dark-haired wizard was still here, a joyful glint dancing in his grey eyes. He looked for the witch who manage this miracle and smiled as he perceived she was trying to make herself invisible to the other "'Mione? How did you…?" but he stopped in the mid of his sentence, not quite able to voice it still. Everyone turned to the lady who was silently cursing Lupin for the sudden attention.

"You promised you wouldn't cry," teased Sirius as she try to get rid of the torrents flowing down her cheeks.

She breathed in and managed a sheepish smile before answering matter-of-factly the dreaded question

"Basically, what I've always been doing: Lots of reading, bit of thinking, a switch and a flick," she simply said, making clear that those technical questions were not to be talked about that night.

Remus smiled knowingly, not fooled a single second by the easy smile his former student was wearing but did not press the subject. Ginny invited everyone to sit at the table after showing Sirius around the house, voice slightly shaking. Once everyone was sat, the magically conjured plates arrived at the table and every guessed tried to begin a casual conversation, not to ruin the mirth of this incredibly magical evening. Teddy, who had first taken badly the new arrival who dared make both his parents cry, was now quite comfortable with Sirius and very happy to list all the things he could do and the few times he used magic accidentally. The marauder laughed wholeheartedly at the changing coloured hair, following his different moods, and told him a few stories about his father's first years at Hogwarts that delighted the youth.

"So," began Dora, after having asked Teddy to stop annoying 'uncle Sirius' for the hundredth time, "What will you be up to?"

"You mean, except for no good?" teased Sirius, "I guess the first think I'll do, once I'm allowed to walk in public places, is… going to Fred and George's shop. This place is a dream come true, I must admit I'm a tat jealous I never got the idea."

"If the first thing the great Sirius Black – their _example_ – does once free is going to Wealsey's, we'll hear about at it during years!" joked Ginny, imaging the honorific tour the twins would give the marauder.

"Finding a job would be pretty good, too…"continued Sirius, trying to get back to more respectable matters as he quickly glanced at a laughing Hermione, "was expecting to bribe my godson into an interview, to tell the truth," he ended, not able to keep absolutely serious.

"Like you needed to do that! Plus, you've been on and on at about how amazingly brilliant you and James were…, I can't wait to see it!" taunted Harry, laughing at the shocked face Sirius put on, "You might want to know that it's pretty much more about research and survey than actual chase and fight, though."

"I am perfectly capable of doing such things, thank you very much!"

Harry looked awkwardly at his godfather, evidently wondering if he should talk about more serious subjects. Guessing the young Aurors question, Sirius smiled at him encouragingly.

"Do you have any… questions?" Harry asked, suddenly serious, "anything 'Mione could not answer or know about…?"

"Or any gruesome details she would not give" added Ron, winking at her friend, easing the atmosphere.

"Well… I guess I've been told what I most wanted to know. She did tell me you put on quite an amazing chase, after the war, didn't you? I'm quite impress at the tactics and skills you've deployed"

"She wouldn't have told she actually helped quite a lot with some of it," laughed Harry before adding, "we hopefully send them all to Azkaban and very view were killed, so we got the information we needed," he summarized, guessing Hermione already told him enough about that part, but still waiting for possible further queries.

"Once you got the information, some of them most have received the kiss, right?" a uneasy silence followed, Sirius frowned and added, "I mean I certainly know how bad it is but still… my dear cousin surely won a one-ticket to nothingness?"

There was a pitch of pure cruelty and vengeance that Sirius didn't manage to totally hide, and about which he didn't seem to care much. Everyone looked down at his or her plate; Bellatrix had been a taboo from the moment she'd been arrested as neither Harry nor Hermione could stand the thought of the one that haunted their nightmares.

"Harry and I had the say," Hermione began, much to everyone's surprise and, before Sirius could say anything, she added, "and we made a point that we are better than them. Notwithstanding, I think Azkaban is a horrible enough place," she concluded, making sure she was avoiding everyone's gaze.

No one talked for a brief moment; Sirius guessed the subject was closed but eyed her expectedly, hoping for a hint of what was causing the sudden chill – if the woman was responsible for his momentary absence, now that he was back, he could hardly see were the problem was.

"And how did you manage to stand Sirius, 'Mione?" mused Remus, in an effort to change subject though his look was a bit too intense to be innocent, as he was trying to decipher what was lying behind the part both Hermione and Sirius seemed to be playing.

"I daresay it was pleasant to have his company," she answered quite elusively, "except for an… orange-eruption problem…" she added, winking at the marauder.

He barked a laugh at was obviously was a private joke and whisper something to her ear that no one could make out but that didn't fail to make her laugh in return.

"How many days did it took him to turn your flat into a bachelor place?" Remus asked again, finding much interesting to see the intimate trust those two seemed to share.

"Actually there's been no such problem, I've never lived with that an easy going person. Sirius helped me with the tiding every time he got an occasion to," she answered; though she reckoned a bit too much on a defensive tone.

"Now, Kitten, you _do_ know dear Moony is never going to let get away with it? Is it retribution already, or are you waiting for the desert?" he asked knowing she would get the double meaning and not caring the least for the intrigued look the others were giving them, as a reaction to both what he said and the curious nickname that didn't seem to annoy her the least.

"I most surely am, and I admit I really want to know how you tamed him. His mess used to drive me mad back in Hogwarts," teased Remus, unable to restrain himself and quite fascinated by the strong link his friends drew on such on short time.

"Didn't have much to do, really. He's just been nice and helped a lot. Did you know he cooks? And quite well too" she added smiling as Sirius gave her a 'this calls for vengeance' look.

"Hermione?" suddenly interrupted Ron, much uncomfortable with the way things were turning, "What about you? What are your plans?"

"Well… I guess I could make a living out of saving Sirius's arse, seems to be a demanding enough job, quite recurrent, too…" she said, avoiding an actual answer.

"_Touché_," retorted the marauder, resting his arm on the dossier of her chair.

"Seriously, you should think about something to do – I mean, it's really no good to hide away on your little flat and—", the redhead seemed to be fuming and not willing to let go that easily but obviously at loss o words, not willing to ruin the night for Harry's sake.

"Perhaps—if you all weren't expecting her to find a miraculous solution to all the wizarding world's problem – she would actually have gotten a job that might not be up to your ridiculously high standards but to her desires," snapped Sirius, dreading the pressure Ron was putting on the young witch.

She took his hand and smiled reassuringly. An odd silence set and all the guesses were disparaging at the idea that there seemed to be no subject that wouldn't result on awkward silent or disagreeable moment.

"Desert, anyone?" sheepishly asked Ginny, blessing Teddy as he answered with his cry of joy that made everyone laugh.

"I'll go for it," interrupted Remus before their host could get up, "Sirius? Mind to give me a hand?" the addressed man nodded and they both went to the kitchen.

The two marauders went to the kitchen, Sirius observed with keen interest the place where his Godson lived, before turning his attention back to his best friend whom, he knew, had other intentions than simple fetching the cake.

"Hermione…," began the amber-eyed wizard, looking in the vague, "she's strong, Sirius, don't get me wrong but… not as strong as she'd want us to think. Not as strong as she looks. Don't get fooled by her assured looks and wit snaps; those are just the façade protecting her."

Sirius looked expectantly at his friend, not sure to understand where he was trying to go, he did not interrupt, "what happened earlier… she surely didn't tell you but--, don't ever mention Bellatrix again. She… experienced personally your cousin's… 'gift'— had Harry not needed her…I doubt she'd have survived unchanged," he continued difficultly, clenching his jaw, trying to stay calm while Sirius looked at him in disbelief.

He did not say a word, though, knowing that Remus was just looking for the right words – as he always was so precise and aware of the weight a speech could have. He sighed before continuing, his face clearly showing he wasn't happy with what he'd come up with, "Be careful with her. Don't—don't show her things you won't be able to give her. Don't harm her," he eventually finished, not daring to face his friend.

"You two have grown quite close, haven't you?" Sirius asked in a calm and barley audible voice his friend didn't know what to make of.

"I have been lucky enough to be one of the few people loved by Hermione Granger. She helped me. A lot, and not only during the war – after and, even before I daresay."

Sirius smiled, still quite calm, doing his bet to contain all the emotions of hurt, rage and distress that were growing inside him, before adding, "She cares for you. She …" he let out a quick laugh, "She prohibit me to raise any subject linked to age issue. And not only because you're surely unbearably jealous I am still 35 while your…what, 43?" he teased, reassuring his friend, managing to put back his reckless mask but only for a very short time as his face suddenly went back to this sullen and concerned expression he so rarely showed, "I would never hurt her. You should've seen it. You, amongst all, should _know_ me," he didn't managed to keep all hurt off.

"Not willingly, Sirius. And that's what scares me," those last words tore the werewolf's heart as he uttered them but he managed to look his friend in the eyes before adding, "I've been watching you both tonight. Padfoot—_please_, consider very carefully what's happening, what could happen. If you harm her, she might not be able to stand back up from it."

* * *

Sirius and Hermione came back to the witch's house at half past two, after a night they had trouble to qualify. If neither thought the reunion would be easy and that Sirius' return was going to be accepted without question, they never imagined there would be so much tension. Of course, they had laughed and everyone was fairly happy. Of course, by the end, the night could be called a success, but they had to wait the night to be quite advanced for it and, more importantly, they had to put their mask back on.

Sirius crashed on the sofa, eyes closed trying to stay as relaxed as possible, while Hermione went to the kitchen to prepare two much deserved camomile infusions. She handed a fuming cup to Sirius once she came back and sat next to him on the couch. They didn't utter a word, both staring into nothingness, not knowing what should be said. Sirius couldn't help replaying over and over again what his best friend had told him. He knew he'd drown quite close to Hermione since his return but wasn't it normal? After all, she was the one who'd saved him, who'd taken care of him, who'd been there for him. She was the one he didn't have to hide from – he could just be his true self, not worrying about what she might think, knowing she'd accept. How could those feelings be wrong? He felt so secure those last week he'd almost forgot how hard it was to worry about everything. But he realised he relied on her far more than he'd ever relied on anyone. During the whole evening, he looked for her eyes, feeding on her strength, he touched whenever he had an occasion to, just holding her hand, or even having her at his side made him feel like nothing bad could happen. He knew those were not sane feelings but couldn't help it. Could that hurt her? Was Moony right? After all, he'd hurt his friend too, even when arrogantly thinking he couldn't do such mistakes. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe quietly and evenly. There were no more menaces on her life – he was somehow the most dangerous thing that could happen to her and couldn't afford to deny it. Would he have to go away, would she request it if that might preserve her, he would. Without hesitation.

"Kitten?" he uttered, his voice quite low, not daring to look at the witch yet, "would you--," he paused again, not quite sure of the way he should phrase his feelings and anxieties, "could you--," he rolled his eyes, exasperated at his own incapacity t express himself and resigned himself at looking at her and facing her mocking eyes.

But what he saw was totally else; she had fallen asleep, her bosom was regularly moving at the rhythm of her slow breathing. At that moment, she looked so peaceful, so _pure…_ The thousands feelings flooding him were unfathomable. And so beautiful too. He'd lie if he said that he hadn't notice that his host was perfectly attractive, but now she was even more so. He wasn't sure what had triggered those new sensations as he watched the sleeping lady but he seemed to see her differently as all her masks and guards were off. He took the cup she was still holding off her hands and places on the table. With all the attention he could manage, he took her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, placing her on the bed he'd been occupying. With great care, he covered her with a blanket and put a few curls that were hiding her face behind her ears. Making no noise, he sat by the bed and took the smaller and so soft hand in his.

He did not know what the future was made of. He wasn't sure about his own feelings. There was still one thing he was utterly positive about: no one would ever hurt her again, not if he could prevent it. Not even himself.

* * *

did you know it's almost chrismas?? I'm suuuure you want to send me a **review** as chrismass present :)

hope you enjoyed!!! much love,

C.


	5. Part IV Beyond Tales

Dear lovely readers, sorry again this chap is not beta read; i couldn't find a way to contact my beta :( - if you read this, Dani, please send me a message! *puppy dog eye* - but I promise I tried to lower the mistake number... :/

Thank you a billion times to the reviewers, **padfootsgrl79, MR, Jade Lammougry, Jukava, LoveIt123** and **sweetmircale** I really appreciate! and thanks for the fav/alert adds too!

Hope you'll enjoy it it's the 'before the last' chap

* * *

**Beyond**

-°Part IV – beyond tales°-

* * *

_"The universe is made of stories, not atoms."_

-Muriel Rukeyser

* * *

When Hermione woke up that morning she felt certain that nothing good could come out of getting out of bed: the sky bore a dull dark grey shade, the room was cold and she knew she would very soon get an owl from Kingsley. She had sent the Prime Minister a letter the day before to inform him of the news, as well as a complete file addressed to the Department of Mysteries, both of which would only be readable on the morning, courtesy of a concealing charm she had altered. As to prove her right, the sound of an owl's beak against the windowpane broke the peaceful silence of an early morning. She sighted and let the important barn-owl enter the room and deliver the letter; she didn't have the time to fetch the animal a recompense that it flew out, surely informing its master the task had been successfully completed. She opened the letter in which she and her guest were asked to go to the minister's office without delay; a portkey was attached so that no excuse could be ventured. She wished she hadn't been so quick to take the mail, not sure she was ready for this new meeting: the previous day had been exhausting, far more than she had anticipated and if she had felt so, she couldn't imagine how demanding it had been to Sirius.

She went out of her room and was surprised to see the marauder up, sipping his cup of tea and reading through the daily prophet, he looked at her then at the letter. She bit her lip nervously, as she hoped she could have had time to prepare herself for the day ahead.

"Kingsley wants to see us. Now", she informed him dismissively, as she helped herself a cup of tea – she couldn't be efficient if hadn't had her tea, two sugars and drop of milk on the morning.

Sirius smiled, clearly sensing that Hermione was far more stressed than him – after all, he had seen Harry the day before and all had been well. That is, regarding his godson's reaction. The young witch breezed through the house gathering her things and getting ready while he kept savouring his earl grey.

"Is there something in 'now' you did not understand?" she asked as she was nearly ready and her host still was wearing his pyjamas.

"No. I am just planning on us being fashionably late. Anyway, we are off to see Kingsley, no one else, aren't we? No need to worry, kitten," he answered with a smug smirk that he knew would amuse her. He had learnt a stressed Hermione was not to be contradicted but was to be relaxed by marauder behaviour.

* * *

The setting fell back into place, revealing a large oak office table, covered in files behind which a weary looking man stood. The former order of the Phoenix member had seldom changed during the last years and was very popular in his role of prime minister, his innate calm and self-assurance irradiating from him even more powerfully than it ever had before. He looked up from the letter he was reading and could not help but to blink a few times. From Hermione's mail he knew what was to be expected but between being told a miracle and witnessing one, there was a large difference.

"Prime Minister," Sirius said sullenly, fighting hard to hold his smile back.

Kingsley was unable to speak for a little while, still gazing at the friend he still thought to be deceased only a few minutes ago. "And how many lives do you have?" he eventually said, getting up to properly greet the marauder.

"Well, I have a friend who's got seven and she's lend me three of them," he lightly answered, winking at the brunette on her side.

The minister shook his head, now certain that the man in front of him had not changed in the least. He passed a hand on his eyes to wear his sleepiness off; he had slept very little, having received the bookworm's letter in the evening and knowing It would reveal itself the day after, he had come to his office particularly early and had to read it thrice, first putting the his understanding of it on his fatigue and inability to comprehend what was written. After the fourth reading of the news, he had asked a the best Unspeakables to drop any project they had been working on, sending them Hermione's complete report and had a team of the most qualified medicomagus coming straight in. The previous were already getting acquainted with the witch's work while the latter were waiting in a communicating room. He had organized a press conference that would happen that very evening – as the thoughtful witch had pointed out in her long letter, the quicker official problems were sorted out, the better it would be and even though her report was as complete as could be, his staff had to check for themselves if he didn't want people questioning his judgement.

After another cup tea and small chat, Sirius had gone to the next room to face a group of curious medicomagi while Hermione stayed in Minister Shakelbolt's office. She felt suddenly uneasy, not having Sirius's calm and reassuring presence by her side and not knowing if he was okay wasn't boding her well. Kingsley's sighed made her focus again on him,

"Hermione… I know you have gone through the trouble of writing the file but I will have nosy journalists to answer to, this evening. Even though you will both need to be there, I need you to explain me – in simple terms – the whereabouts of Sirius' return… how on Merlin's holy beard did you manage to bring someone back from–" he marked a pause, not sure on how to phrase his thoughts and not being completely able to utter such dangerous words. He looked at the young woman straight in the eyes, before carrying on, concerned filling his owns, "have you… have you clearly considered the matter and how dangerous this could be? He looks fine but—what if he… deteriorates?" he asked, shifting from the welcoming friend to the concerned parental figure.

She sighed and gave herself a few minutes to collect her thoughts, "He… _wasn't_ dead. No one can bring back a dead person. And I did take every precaution and tried to foresee every possible problem ahead." She marked a pause, made herself comfortable. This was going to be a long and not so pleasant tale. If she had avoided telling her relatives – and even Sirius – the truth about her discoveries, she knew she eventually had to let it go.

"You remember I took a little break, a few months after the war?" he nodded, " well, I had no idea what to do and had no plan to rescue Sirius back then for I thought him dead, we all did." She shifted again, trying to find an easy trail of thoughts that would have everything explained, "I first just saw it as 'vacations' and started reading. Quite a lot. I never had time to look deeper into magical society's foundations and thought it was a pleasant way to get back a normal way of life.

"I first reread the entire Arthurian legends. I had known them as Muggle tales but I wanted to know how far what we considered to be mere fantasy rooted itself in the wizarding reality. It turns out there is quite a lot. But the versions vary from one text to another and it was recurrent that a certain form of magic was never found on Muggle's adaptation but were very present on wizard's original tales.

"After what Harry, Ron and I learned from the Tales of Beadle the Bard, I didn't want to risk loosing this knowledge on the prejudice I once had over legends. You see, in those tales, potions were often mentioned but real magic wasn't – or seldom – and only was performed by Merlin. The only other characters who got to perform it are Nimüe and Morgan. Of course, this is the Muggle version and in the wizard's one, there is magic but it is in its primal force, not catalysed as we use it now. Nimüe has imprisoned Merlin, but as the Muggle text says that she sealed him by the spells he taught her, the wizard text mention several traps she would have placed in order to prevent anyone from rescuing Merlin. Her spells were powerful but she feared his even greater power or that one day, someone could free him.

"I went on a trip to see the legendary places by myself, and ended up in Brittany, where Merlin's tomb is supposed to be. There I saw several medieval paintings on his enclosing – both Muggle and wizard – and some paintings seemed to display those traps she set. One of them – only, I really wasn't sure – looked like the veil. I wasn't in the Death Chamber when it happened but I've been told what it looked like. I couldn't be sure.

"I went to local libraries, had a French wizard helping me translating the texts, and it turned out there had been a veil, centuries ago, that hung down the arch leading to Merlin's tomb. Same descriptions – unreal wind blowing through the veil, voices… enough to repel Muggles, not wizards. There are no accounts on what wizards trying to go through it became – only that they disappeared.

"Come to think of it, that really did not make sense. People don't just _disappear_. This is nonsensical. Even in magical world everything _can_ be explained – if it can't, it means we haven't look hard enough. So I began researches there, several scholars helped me – not knowing what I exactly was trying to achieve, don't worry. Only, it seems my…er, 'nosiness' did not go unnoticed…"

She made a break and Kingsley offered her a glass of water that she gleefully accepted. The minister did not interrupt her once, listening very carefully what she had to say. She did not look at him, and it sounded like she had been rehearsing what she would say – and he knew it what very likely to be true. She didn't look at him, but kept her gaze focused on the window behind him: it was easier to pretend she was just telling herself what lead to this miracle than to actually speak with some one – even if it were Kingsley. She took a deep breath, readying herself to began the part to which the minister might not be able to restrain commenting on.

"You were saying – your researches didn't go unnoticed?" he invited her to resume

"Brenna came to me – she um, she asked me to go to Salisbury with her. She's—" she made a pause, took a deep breath and began again, rushing through the next stage, "she a priestess there. They know about the mysteries I was looking for and—"

"Wait… are you trying to tell me an Avalon priestess came to you and—Hermione, for Merlin's love, don't tell me you just followed her blindly?"

"Gryffindor? Curious… brave… a tad stupid sometimes," she smiled as her friend shook his head and went on with her explanations, and resumed, "they told me the mysteries of the veil and offered me to teach me how to retrieve someone from it. You see—the veil is some kind of otherworld, time passes by differently there. But while a 'regular' otherworldly dimension would be a distortion of time, it would still be on earth and conjuring the necessary force, people can retrieve themselves from it. The Veil—it's different. It's some kind of in between, there is no time, no space. It is set to hold indefinitely someone prisoner."

"You won't have me believe they offered you this knowledge freely. What was the price you had to pay?"

"They did offer me the knowledge about the nature of the veil freely, though I had been able to figure out most of it. You may think this sign of generosity as a teaser, if you want. They warned me they wouldn't offer me the tools to retrieve someone from it without gaining something in return. Fortunately, they didn't ask me about whom I was trying to rescue – they seem to care very little about one's reasons and specific desires, and I doubt they would have been happy wasting their time to rescue a _man_."

"What did they ask from you?" he interrupted, sensing she was just trying to diverge from the question of price and knowing enough about the priestess greed.

"As I told you, I did not go unnoticed. It happens they had sent someone to watch me and where interested in my… intelligence. They want powerful or clever witch to be part of their world and keep it standing – Avalon cannot be left to ruin. They wanted me to become a priestess."

"But you're—you're not, are you?"

"No, I'm not. But in order for them to trust me with the secret I had to swear I would be part of their Order."

"You didn't! Saying is _making_ in that place, all – all speeches are perfomatifs! Hermione, don't you know about Old Magic?"

"I did know about it; don't under estimate me," she said smiling at the amazed look of her friend, "I simply did not see what else could I do. I now think they wanted to be sure I really wanted to save someone from the veil. Or maybe did they think I wasn't ready yet. I cannot tell."

"You are aware that if they decide they should have taken you back then, they might just appear in front of you and ask you to follow them without you having a chance to say no!"

"I know, but I don't think this will happen. I don't think I'm power-hungry enough for them either but they had to be sure I did not intend to use their magic more than once and for other thing than retrieving one person only from the Veil." Hermione made a break, she was aware that her thinking was feeble and that what happened made little sense if at all. She had decided that things were as they were though, and that there could be no use losing her mind over the Priestess reasons – maybe wasn't she powerful enough, or maybe did they want to observe her further? Anyhow, she had to appreciate what she was given

"How exactly did you retrieve him?" asked Kingsley, interrupting her musings.

"I have been trusted with words – not their meaning," she paused again, quite frustrated by her own ignorance on the subject and resolved on giving him the summary of the matter – she shall research the specifics later and the little she knew wasn't going to please the Minister, "I cannot fully understand the works behind the magic – it is _really_ ancient magic. Runic and elementary forces combined and—," Kingsley looked as if he had jumped on his seat, staring at the young witch. Everyone knew the specificities of that kind of magic…

"One given for one taken? _What_ did you sacrificed _again_?" he asked, briefly closing his eyes, not sure he understood his friend's recklessness and selflessness.

"Avalon unicorn's blood – I didn't do it! Not that I could even get close to the animal," she said slightly blushing at what it implied, "and my own."

"Why yours?" he asked dismissively; no sense whatsoever could possibly be brought onto the young witch.

"It's like giving the Veil my identity, if that makes any sense. They told me that despite all the right ingredients the Veil could 'reject' my plea. They also warned that me and the one I would save would thereafter be linked, but I have no clue in what way or if that would even be perceivable," saying that he clearly saw how puzzled and annoyed she from the latter point, though he could not guess her train of thoughts. She suddenly looked up at him, "By the way, no word about any specifics of Avalon can be uttered to anyone!" she added, hoping she would close the subject.

"And about Sirius?" he asked, smiling internally at her slight annoyed look

"He needed a few weeks to be back to a healthy state and to process all the information but he's now as fine as could be."

"And about _you_?"

She sighted but quickly got from Kingsley's concerned stare that this information wasn't negotiable.

"I was… quite exhausted and tried not to do magic for three days so I could get my strength back. I am perfectly fine by now."

He nooded, looked at her for few seconds and sighted, declaring that what she had told him so far would be enough and feeling suddenly more tired a the idea of the day to come, "The press conference will happen tonight, I will need both you and Sirius to be there – I will send Harry the details so he can be there too."

"But—I thought I told you that so we wouldn't _have_ to be there!"

"I _will_ be the one talking but you both must be there – in case there are questions I cannot answer to or that are not to be answered. The more we give them the less they will pursue us. It's just so that they can see for themselves," he said, smiling at the discomfited face of Hermione and couldn't help adding, "and, of course, a few photos."

"I'm already regretting the Priestess didn't take me", she sighted again and got up then gave Kingsley her most grateful smile, "thank you for doing that and making it your priority. Of course, you could do more by saving us from a pack of avid journalists…"

He laughed and got up to lead her to the door, "sixteen thirty, conference room – I trust you know the one," he informed before kissing her on the cheek.

Outside, Sirius was already waiting for her, sitting on a comfortable armchair as if he owned the place. He got up when she moved forward and they took the chimney powder to get back to Hermione's place.

She hardly talked to him and went straight to her room, he decided not to go after her, guessing she needed time for herself, after all, he'd constantly been around since he came back. Hermione let herself sunk into her bed. She didn't know why she suddenly felt the need to be alone, but she felt like she was on the verge of crying. She knew she was being ridiculous, and though she wanted to put this emotional state on the party of the previous day and the afternoon's interview, she couldn't bring herself to believe this was all there was to it. Maybe was it the fact that she had been taking constant care of Sirius, afraid he wouldn't be at ease, but once again, he had taken care of her as well. She knew that it had something to with Sirius. Was it because of this link she could not know the nature of? Was she afraid that the new feelings she could not yet name were nothing but the result of a magical link? 'New feelings?' her sarcastic voice couldn't help interrupting, 'you already had a crush on him when you were fifteen!' She sighed; the voice was right, as it often were. She should have sensed this coming and was aware than magical or natural, she should let these feelings aside for nothing good could come from that. She sighed again; what she really was annoyed at was the fact that, after tonight, Sirius would be officially free, that he would leave her place – as he should – and that she would be back to wondering what in Morgan's sweet name she could do with her life. The clock chimed, it already was time to go and she was surprised at how she'd stayed in the minister's office and, even more, how long she'd been brooding in her room.

When she went out of room, she found Sirius sat on the sofa, reading a novel and seeming to have lost himself in it. She allowed herself a few second to take in the sight before breaking the magic by lightly coughing to inform him of her presence.

"You okay?" he asked, concern feeling his unfathomable eyes.

"Yes… just needed a moment," she smiled, not convincingly enough but he pretended this was sufficient. It was, for the time being.

* * *

The conference passed swiftly, far more that she had expected to. If Kingsley had briefly mentioned Avalon and said that Hermione was sworn to secret and confidence, no journalist was bold enough to push on – as if they were too scared of the mystical island to dare and ask questions. The more difficult task was to make everyone understand that Sirius had not been dead but was trapped in a chaotic dimension. Thanks to the Medicomagus in Chief, whom Hermione knew well and held in great respect, Sirius didn't have to tell the herd of press people what that dimension was like, pretending that it was nothing but a no-time of which he could have no recollection. The first specialised magazines having asked their questions specific to either Sirius' surprising state of still being thirty-five or to what kind of runic magic Hermione had to use, the press quickly shifted the subject to Sirius' past and the injustice of his condemnation twenty years ago. He managed to quickly answer the whereabouts of that situation; careful not to incriminate the Ministry which Kingsley had a bit of trouble keeping afloat and out of suspicion. Eventually, the tabloid participated, wishing to know _why_ had Hermione chosen to save Sirius and whether the latter had any project for the future. One of the tabloid reporters, having been at Hogwarts at approximately the same time as Sirius', did not miss mentioning how popular the former marauder was among the feminine genre. Kingsley mercifully said that the conference was over and that both guest were tired and deserved time to be greeted back by their family and friends. The two adults made a quick exit, happy to be freed from the staring of journalist and never ceasing flash of cameras.

Harry joined them a few second after they reached the back chamber in which they had found shelter from the press. He embraced his godfather, still not quite able to keep his ecstatic look and maniac smiling off.

"You did good! Both of you! Kingsley told me you would have to wait for tomorrow to go out though, or preferably the day after, for people to know about your return. We wouldn't want a wizard attacking you thinking your either a walking-dead or an impostor!" said Harry, trying to keep his voice and intension light hearted, guessing that after all those years of being shut in, his godfather would want to go out.

"Fair enough. So I'll have time to ready myself before going back to the real world, and have a bit of rest," answered the marauder, smiling back at the younger wizard.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible…" he answered uncomfortably as his two weary-looking friends shot him an concerned look, "well, someone might have let slip to someone else that Sirius was back and it got further and eventually to Molly. She—kind of launched a party to celebrate that," he ended, shifting scratching the back of his head.

"And who said that to whom?" Hermione asked, massaging her temples, ready to kill whomever the guilty might turn out to be.

"Promise me first you will do her no harm," answered Harry, laughing lightly at the murderous look of his friend.

"Her?!" she had been sure it was Ronald.

"Ginny told Fred. He's her brother – you can't expect her to hide that from him, can you? Fred told George who told another one and so on."

"How bad is it?" enquired Sirius, smiling.

"Uh… nothing, Molly promised it would be a very little thing. Only close friends."

"How bad?" repeated Hermione: Harry was an awful liar.

"The Weasleys – I know it is already quite a lot – the Order and, er, Hogwarts staff and of course, the guests other-halves and family," he said, with a sheepish smile.

"I guess 'having a rest' will be indeed postponed… bring the fun in!" laughed Sirius.

Harry smiled to him and gave them chimney powder they already were expected. The emerald-eyed wizard disappeared in green flames. Hermione let a sigh escape her for the umpteenth time; she knew this day would know no end when she woke up that morning but had no idea of how right she had been.

"Don't worry," said Sirius holding her by the shoulder, "it won't be half as bad as you think it will. If it's unbearable, we still can escape with a well-thought prank," he tried to reassure her," And I'll be right by your side," he added, before kissing her forehead.

He gave her a wink before disappearing behind green flames.

"Will you?"

She shook her head and put on a smile. She could make it through the night – she'll have the whole following day to brood and whine in peace.

* * *

Hope you all liked it! next chap last chap, please do **review** :3 (and if you spot an unbearable mistake, don't hesitate to let me know, i'd be more than happy to correct it!)

Love,

C.


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